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Wednesday, October 8, 2014

I now pronounce you, Corrupt!

I spent
this weekend playing the typical tourist in Agra. Armed with my aviators and my
hat, I was all set to yet again explore the city I’ve been to a zillion times
before. Even though I know all facts about the Taj Mahal by heart (I could take
you around all the different monuments and heritage sites like that perfect
guide), Agra never ceases to amaze me. Little did I know that I’ll be left with
my mouth open, for all the wrong reasons, this time round…

For all
pilgrims of the Taj Mahal, a visit to Agra is virtually incomplete without a
little side trip to Fatehpur Sikri. To quote Wikipedia “Here he (Akbar The Great) commenced the construction of a
planned walled city which took the next fifteen years in planning and
construction of a series of royal palaces, harem, courts, a mosque, private
quarters and other utility buildings.He
named the city, Fatehabad, withFateh, a word of Arabic origin in Persian, meaning
"victorious." It was later called Fatehpur Sikri.It is at Fatehpur Sikri that the
legends of Akbar and his famed courtiers, thenine jewels orNavaratnas, were born.
Fatehpur Sikri is one of the best preserved collections of IndianMughal architecturein India.”

After an eventful journey, which involved losing our way and getting
stuck in a village, we finally reached the famed ghost city. It was here that I
was shocked out of my Mughal dreams. Standing there, on the road, were a few
self-proclaimed enforcers of the law, blocking the road to our destination,
which was still a couple of kilometers away. “Yaha government parking hai sir.
Gaadi iske aage nahi jaegi” , they said. Even as they were saying this, a few
cars with smiling tourists made their way through. “Wo local gaadi hai”, they
said. As luck would have it, a non-local Rajasthan registered car coasted
through just then. Something was definitely wrong with us then. I wondered
what.

A heated argument followed involving the usual, raised voices,
expletives, angry gesturing, people gathering, shouting, pacifying and still
more shouting. We ended up turning back home, without a backward glance. It was
only the driver who had the wonderful idea of hiring a guide to take us
through.

As I learnt that day, guides not only show you around, they can
apparently take you through barricades as well. Heard of VIP access? It can be
bought for around INR 300. More if you can’t negotiate, less if you can. And
so, with the money promised, our car was suddenly ushered through the same
barricade we were earlier stopped at. Forget the non-police thugs even the
police is complicit in this appallingly blatant corrupt practice. There, at the
next barrier, stood our protectors in Khakhi. From what the guide said, INR 100
was all they took, and we zoomed through.

I’d heard a lot about corruption. I’d read about all the scandals. All
the Who’s who of the News arena made sure I was aware of the corrupt practices
followed in government offices. But nothing had prepared me for this. For the
first time in all my life, I felt helpless. I felt violated. That day,
corruption stared me in the face and brought me down to my knees. I gave in. I
haven’t been able to digest that defeat.

Everyone talks about corruption that I will probably never deal with in
real life. What are the odds that someone like me will actually step into a government
office? Pretty slim, to be honest… But no one talks about the corruption that
is infinitely more likely to affect my day to day functioning. You can
persecute all the government employees you want, but who punishes the milkman
who gives me more water than milk for my money. Who punishes the shopkeeper who
always weighs me less than the wheat I’m paying for? Who punishes the telecom
operator who charges me for services I’ve never even used?

Are we honestly so block-headed that we fail to prioritize between
corruption of different kinds? Or are we so stupid to not know what harms us
more? So what if people made away with crores during the Common Wealth Games.
It affected the public purse to which I had contributed a bit. I didn’t really
feel the pinch. So shouldn’t I be more worried about people who directly rob me
of my money? I don’t know about you dear reader, but it makes a lot of sense to
me.

That is exactly why this incident affected me the way it did. It struck
deep and hurt my pride. For a staunch opponent of all things corrupt, this was
a big blow. It crippled me in a manner I can’t describe. I know I’m being all
emotional about it. But this was my reaction… rage, utter helplessness, despair
and disgust, in that same order.

Knowing full well that corruption flourishes only with the connivance of
the politicians and the police, there is no one I can complain to. There is no
one I can ask for help. What I can do is, get my opinion out to as many people
as I can, so that, there is never again a Maanya Gupta, stuck on that road,
banging her head against the car window. As for Fatehpur Sikri, we are now like
estranged lovers who shall never meet again…

About Me

At first look, I'm extremely normal. Well, I look the same at second look too! (They tell me I don't even look like an engineer!) I love each moment that life offers me, and the people it is filled with. Taking one day at a time, I believe in giving my best. A dreamer at heart, I hope my humble, non-important opinion can someday make even a grain of a difference in someone's life. Till then, it's me and you and our world of words!